A Second Look
by Dark Seroph
Summary: A collection of snippets from Awakening. Chapter Five: Lucina. An introspective look at the time she spent alone after the Ylissian/Plegia war. All chapters pretty much contain spoilers if you haven't completed the game.
1. Chapter 1

I was so incredibly disappointed with the supports for a f!Tactician and Frederick. There was so much potential! Augh, so, I wrote the supports-between-the-supports. The SS conversation at the bottom is a tad spoilerific if you haven't gotten to chapter 13. I tried to make it as vague as possible to avoid anything too obvious, so if you want to chance it, you can. You have been warned!

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- C+ -

Dawn had yet to peek over the distant mountains, smoky blue in the early pink blush of near light. Overhead a softly rolling landscape small clouds glowed pink as candy, silently keeping vigil over the pitched tents that stood in an orderly grid among the flat lands. The peace of the early hour was entirely unbroken, save for a loud sneeze from one of the tents near the center of the encampment.

Fredrick sat up on his cot, clearing his throat and squeezed his eyes shut tightly against the scratchy pain it caused. More of an irritant than anything, and the knight dismissed the feeling, running his hands through his unruly hair and inhaled deeply. As he got out of bed and began preparing for the new day he noted with no little amount of disappointment that he was up later than usual. True, no one in the camp save the third shift sentries would be up at this hour, but for Fredrick this lapse in duty was simply not acceptable. He would have to push to get back on time with things if he wanted to accomplish all of his duties before Chrom woke.

His tent was orderly as a painting by the time he left in full armor to gather his horse and saddled it, making the rounds to check on all the sentries. He collected their reports, satisfied that the camp had not been beset in the middle of the night nor was there any other suspicious activity to note. There was a certain lethargy to his normally sprightly pace however, something he definitely noticed when shooing a small clan of grouse from their nesting place that was entirely too close to Lissa's tent for his liking before going on to do his daily inspection of the equipment. By that point the camp had started waking up, the sun now fully raised above the peaks of the distant mountains which were now purple in the light of day. For the most part, the other soldiers left him alone. They had their own duties to do after all. Alone in his task, Fredrick was set upon by a bout of coughing that _did_ finally manage to catch someone's attention.

"Frederick?"

He turned to see Robin there, her hood pulled up against the chill of the morning, her hand resting easily on the pommel of her sword in a casual stance. Her head was cocked slightly to the side, her brows drawn together in worry. "Are you feeling alright?"

"It's nothing to worry about." The knight replied casually, his returning look flat despite the scratchiness of his throat. A momentary inconvenience at most. He set aside a lance that he had deemed worthy to pick up a second one that seemed a little worse for the wear. He thought that he was alone again when the coughing took him, this time forced to double over and use the lance to support himself.

She was there in an instant, her tiny hands on the thick plate covering his arm. "Fredrick! Gods man, you're sick as a dog!" Robin waited until the bout had passed and Fredrick straightened himself, composed once more and looking no worse for the experience save the dark smudges under his eyes and slight paleness to his complexion. "Come on, let's get you back to your tent."

The tactician tugged on his arm as if to lead him away, but Fredrick stood as immovable as any mountain and just as grim and serious as ever. "I have duties to perform." He replied and shot her a look as if she should know better than to try and manipulate him. He had made it quite clear that trusting her was entirely out of the question given her dramatic appearance in a field with conveniently no memory at all, save that she knew Chrom. The tactician would be taking him nowhere, sick or otherwise. "Perhaps you should attend to your own. We have a long day ahead."

Stubbornly, she did not dismiss herself in a huff, though her simmering anger was bubbling close to the surface. He had yet to see the small woman get angry, but would venture a guess that he was dangerously finding out what she was like when she was truly pissed off. "Fredrick," Robin's tone was serious, the voice she used when commanding units on the battlefield. "We can not afford our most skilled officers to be waylaid by the common cold. You need rest, or it's only going to get worse."

He leveled a glare at her, in no mood to be discussing what he _needed_ with her of all people. "Thank you for your concern, but it is unnecessary. I know what I must do for the service of my Prince. Good day."

Obviously miffed at the dismissal, her shoulders tightened, her glower darkened, and her hand gripped the pommel of her sword. "Fight me." It wasn't a command. It was a challenge.

Frederick looked over his shoulder to see her drawing her sword, a look of utter determination on her face as she readied her blade, sinking into a stance that he recognized from their last training session. "I will do no such thing." He replied and set the lance he had been inspecting aside, deeming it unworthy for extended combat.

"If you can not defeat a little thing like me, then what hope do you have of protecting Chrom in a real battle?" Robin shot back, acid in her tone. "If you beat me, I'll leave you alone to collect pebbles. If you can't defeat me, you will march back to your tent and rest."

He frowned at that, looking at the impatient set of her shoulders and the absolutely icy glare she shot him. But Frederick didn't get up before the crack of dawn to fight hotheaded tacticians and had zero interest in entertaining a battle with the woman. He was about to say as much, but she seemed to read the look on his face, her glare becoming positively glacial. Suddenly she burst forward with a flurry of movement, swinging her sword up in a devastating blow that would have beheaded him if he didn't step backward, the tip of the blade whistling past his face by mere inches.

Frederick's battle instinct took over, grabbing a lance and swung the haft of it. He was too slow to catch her off guard, and Robin danced neatly out of his way, using her momentum to swing around to his flank, forcing him away from the weapon rack and into the open flat of the training ring. He went willingly, allowing himself to be corralled backward simply because the space would give him more room. It was odd fighting on foot rather than off the back of a horse, but he could adapt quickly. Robin had fought with him like this before and he knew her moves, knew her style and the way that she would react when push came to shove. She feinted for his left, thinking herself clever and that he would be fool enough to fall for the ruse. Their weapons clashed and Robin was forced to take another tact, switching her style as soon as the last maneuver failed and forced Frederick through every counter he knew in the span of a handful of moments spent exchanging blows.

Very quickly he realized that something was terribly wrong. By this point, Robin should have been wheezing and dragging, struggling to mount so much as a meager defense. She had broken out into a sheen of sweat but she showed no sign of slowing down in her avid offense while Fredrick struggled to draw breath. His lungs burned, the rawness in his throat that had been developing all morning finally catching up with him, exacerbated by the strain of performing his daily duties and the intense physical requirements of the fight that had suddenly unfolded. With no small amount of stung pride, he realized that he was being beaten.

Steeling his resolve he tried to put the physical detriments of his condition aside and focused entirely on the battle, mustering his strength to clear enough distance that the shorter length of her sword would be her own undoing, put at the mercy of the longer reach of the lance. She responded instantly when she realized his intention, refusing to be pushed back and bore the punishment with a grimace and slipped inside his guard. The tip of her sword thrust up until it touched the point of his chin, both combatants standing stock-still. Robin heaved, keeping her eyes locked on Frederick who had only gotten paler over the course of the battle.

"Yield." She hissed, her hand steady though the rest of her trembled, obviously exhausted from the battle. The tactician had only kept up with him because he was sick. She hadn't suddenly become more adept a sword wielder over night.

"I yield." His voice was ragged, having to pull deep breaths, winded after the battle and began coughing again, this time with far more force.

Robin sheathed her sword quickly and sidled under his arm, propping the big knight up and allowed him to lean the bulk of his weight against her smaller frame. His lance clattered to the ground, completely forgotten and gratefully used Robin as support until he could stop coughing.

"Come on, let's get you to bed." She said softly, shooting him a worried smile and adjusted his arm so that the plates of his armor weren't digging into her shoulder. "By the gods man, how do you lug all this armor around?" Frederick was too beside himself with trying to concentrate on walking to answer her mumbled question. By the time they got him back to his assigned tent it was all Robin could do to drag him inside and help to unbuckle the harder pieces of his armor.

"I'll make sure that the weapons and armor are checked." She was saying, concentrating on a buckle at his side, out of breath from the fight and having to drag Fredrick through the camp. "So just concentrate on getting better. I mean it Fredrick. Chrom will have your head if you die of the flu." Her joke went completely unnoticed by Frederick who for once just wanted to lie down and rest.

"Thank you." He mumbled when his chest plate was off, making it easier to breathe and coughed a couple of times more, though not as violently as before.

"Don't mention it." She smiled genuinely this time, hanging his armor on the rack beside his cot. "You've got the rest?" Her gesture encompassed his few remaining pieces of armor.

"I can manage." Fredrick replied and sat heavily on the edge of his cot with a sigh and a small cough, working at the last pieces of his armor. Robin smiled and bid a farewell, leaving Frederick to his own devices. He paused, looking at the armor already on the rack and quietly marveled at how natural it had been to have her standing with him under the wing of his arm. Shaking his head, he pulled off the last of his armor and clothes and fell soundly asleep.

- B+ -

It was perhaps near midnight by now, most of the camp well asleep with the third shift just starting their patrols. Frederick was making his rounds as well, inspecting the camp for anyone that might have thought night was an opportune time to catch them off guard. It was quiet, like it was almost every night that he'd done such patrols, but that did not deter him from doing a thorough inspection of the camp. He was about to head back to his own tent when he spotted a light and headed that way instead. He immediately recognized the lit tent as Robin's and grimaced, wondering if she would be up devising new ways to test his palette. Yes, he had asked for it, but that didn't mean that he enjoyed trying various dried meats any better than he had the first time.

Against his better judgment he strode to the tent's entrance and hesitated just outside of it, his hands clasped behind his back. "Robin?"

He heard something thump and then a groan followed by a cascade of papers falling onto the ground. "Come in." Her voice was obviously strained and groggy, like she had just woken up.

When Frederick ducked inside it was to see the tactician kneeling on the ground, rubbing her forehead and picking up papers while mumbling to herself. She looked up briefly and spared Frederick a small, though genuine smile. "Hello there Frederick. Heading in for the night?"

"I was about to, until I noticed your candle still lit." He replied and knelt on the ground, quickly helping her to gather the papers. Once he had a neat pile in his hands, he stood and handed them over to which she thanked him and put them back on the desk from which they'd fallen. "I'm surprised to see you up still."

She smiled at the unasked question. "We won that last battle by the skin of our teeth. I'd rather not get into another situation like that if at all possible. I've been studying the battle to see if I can determine their tactics, figure out how they almost beat us, and why they've suddenly changed their style." Robin tapped the stack of papers absently, staring at nothing in particular with a distant gaze as her mind grappled with some other topic.

"Robin," Her gaze snapped to him at the sound of his voice, her vision clearing in that second and focusing on him instead of whatever mire she had conjured. "Why do you fight for Chrom?"

The question had caught her completely off guard and she blinked at Frederick, confused. "What do you mean?"

He straightened slightly, clasping his hands behind his back and stood solidly, imposing in the small space of the tent. "You have no memory, unless that has changed." Robin shook her head once; her memory was still very much absent. "Then you have no previous allegiance to my lord, and no obligation to serve him. So why do you do this?" He gestured at the half-burned candle and the thick trails of melted wax dripping down its sides.

She glanced at the candle, tugging at her bottom lip with her teeth. "It just feels right." Came the reply after a moment, and Robin looked up at Frederick, her gaze curiously unguarded. "Whoever I was before Chrom and Lissa found me in that field may matter. Perhaps it won't. But whether who I was before would agree with picking this side of the war doesn't matter now. You are all important to me." She smiled kindly and folded her hands together in front of her. "When I had no one and nothing, the Shepherds took me in and welcomed me as one of their own. It might have been a little rough at first, but you're all my friends, and I will protect my friends no matter what. Right now, the best way that I can do that is making sure that we win. If that means a few all-nighters…" She shrugged, tapping the papers on her makeshift desk again. "Well, what are a few hours of sleep compared to the life of someone that I care about?"

The timid smile that she fixed him with left Frederick lost for words and a curious tightness in his chest. He cleared his throat to bridge the silence. "A noble pursuit. You have done a fine job thus far. I hope that we shall continue to be successful." The compliment was forced, polite, something that he was expected to say.

Robin's eyes became guarded again and she leaned back, resting her hands on the back of her chair. "And why do you serve Chrom?" She asked casually, though he knew that with her intelligent and keen mind, she never simply asked idle questions and not make notes of the outcome. "Here you are, patrolling the campsite from dawn until dusk, picking pebbles out of our path, and keeping remarkable tabs on the state of our arms. I've never heard your story, Frederick."

He couldn't have been more aware of the intense look she was giving him, as if he were a bug under glass or a new book that she had found interesting. It was… unsettling, to be so closely scrutinized. "It is my duty." He replied matter of fact, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, as if he was permanently stamped with a sign on his forehead that everyone should have been able to read. "I can do no less than to see that my lord and lady are protected."

"But is that all?" She asked, leaning forward slightly and crossed her arms over her chest, folding her hands inside her opposite sleeves. "You don't feel… kinship with Chrom and Lissa? Is it just a job to you?"

Frederick's brows drew down into a frown, clearly offended and Robin had the good sense to look chastised when she realized that she had crossed some invisible line. "I'm sorry, Frederick." She mumbled immediately, standing apart from her chair. "I just don't understand, is all. I would like to understand, I really would."

The knight considered her words a moment, and then heaved a small sigh. "Service for service's sake is often enough." His voice was low when he spoke; quiet, though Robin had no trouble hearing him. He could have whispered and she would have still heard, the camp in the dead of night as silent as any grave. "I have known Chrom and Lissa for a long time. I _do_ consider them friends, but my role as a knight comes before even that. Were it not that I was formally bound to serve and protect them, I would do it anyway, just as the other Shepherds would… just as you have."

Her smile was small as the light of understanding dawned on her. Robin walked forward, placing a gentle hand on the thick plate armor on his arm. "Well, if you ever need a friend, you can talk to me, alright? Luckily, you have no oath of service sworn to me, hm?" She patted his arm and stuffed her hands in her pockets with a bashful smile. "And if you suddenly run out of things to micromanage, stop by, will you? I could use some help with all…" she gestured vaguely at the stacks of papers and books that littered her table. "…this."

He glanced at the disorderly piles, his fingers twitching to straighten things, but held himself remarkably in check, tamping down the urge to clean things. "I will keep your offer in mind." It would provide ample excuse to keep an eye on her, if nothing else. Robin might have seamlessly worked her way into the Shepherds and the army, but she was still an unknown variable that danced a little too close to his royal charges. "Good night, milady." He gave a short bow to which Robin smiled and quickly caught the edge of his chest plate and stood on her toes to reach his cheek and give him a quick kiss.

When the only response was a bewildered look from Frederick, Robin shrugged. "Thanks for being open with me. I know it's probably difficult for you since I am… well, who I am."

Massive understatement if ever there was one, but he found himself smiling anyway. "Astute as ever."

"Good night, Frederick." They parted without another word; the knight to his own quarters and the tactician to pretend to clean up her mess before calling it quits for the night.

- A+ -

Truth be told, he was avoiding Lissa. She had it in her head that he needed lessons in slacking off, and she was not going to relent on her special regiment of "training". Chrom had already banned him from outright doting on the prince and if Lissa caught him trying to sort the weapons on one of his "days off" she would simply throw a fit. And a Lissa throwing a tantrum over him working to hard was not something that Frederick wanted to see.

So, he had confined himself to his tent after he had done as much work as he could without either of his royal charges lifting an eyebrow in disapproval and polished his armor. When even he had to admit that he couldn't possibly polish it anymore, he had been forced out of his tent by a need to do _something_ and was reduced to walking around the camp without his armor, lest Lissa think he was up to something that involved menial labor. Secretly he snuck a look at the equipment tent and its contents, but couldn't linger for too long. Lissa knew that he paid visits if he could and often dropped by to make sure that Frederick was properly relaxing. He had almost resigned himself to heading back to his tent to try and sleep when he walked by Robin's tent.

He paused outside of it, noting that she was probably already studying or managing the army's affairs. The soft glow of a candle vaguely lit the fabric of the tent in the dim light of the evening. Perhaps she would have something for him to do. Lissa would not come to Robin's tent looking for him. Ever since his relaxation training had started, Robin had been the one person he could go to that would provide him with tasks if he truly started to go mad with idleness. He called her name and when there was no answer he couldn't help but to smile. She had probably fallen asleep on her books again, an occurrence that was becoming more common as of late.

Frederick let himself in, making sure that she was slumped over the table with her head resting on her arms before fully walking in. Just as he thought, she was dead to the world. With a shake of his head he picked up the books that were nearest to her elbows and most likely to fall off if she should jump awake and stacked them neatly out of flail-range. Once her desk was suitable he bent to blow out the candle, deciding that it was probably best he not disturb her any more.

Before he could actually snuff the small flame Robin suddenly awoke with a strangled scream that startled the living ghost straight out of Frederick and sat bolt upright in her chair. Her brows were drawn together in agony, her eyes squeezed tight and her hands immediately went up to clutch at her head. "No!" She wailed, completely unaware that she was not the only one in the tent.

"Robin?" Frederick breathed, recovering quickly from the scare she'd given him and touched her gently to which she promptly jumped a foot in the air out of fright and toppled out of her chair, groaning when she hit the floor. Kneeling next to the downed woman, Frederick tried to help her sit back up, though was cautious that his touch might scare her again. "What in the name of the gods was that?" He asked gently, her eyes pulling away from that foggy place to focus with painfully crystal clarity on him instead.

"Frederick!" She threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and heaved a wracking sob, gulping in air and tears and shuddered like a leaf in the wind, her face buried against the solid mass of his chest. Blinking in surprise and properly concerned, Frederick put his arms around her and she trembled all the harder.

"What's wrong?" Truly he was concerned that something terrible was happening to her, and wondered if perhaps some dark magic was involved.

"Will you protect Chrom?" She suddenly gasped; pulling away enough to look him in the eyes and her trembling lessened somewhat, though her eyes still glittered with tears. "Would you protect him?"

"Of course!" Frederick didn't even need to think about it. Protecting Chrom was fairly second nature to him.

"From anything?" She asked, her hands suddenly digging into the muscle of his shoulders, gripping him as if he were the last anchor she had in reality and fearing what would happen if she let go. "From any_one?_" Her voice quavered, her lips trembling and fresh tears pushed out the old ones, spilling down her cheeks without restraint.

"From anything or anyone." He repeated with confidence, gently wiping the tears from her face. If the calluses of his hands bothered her she did not flinch from the rough texture.

"Promise me." She breathed, leaning forward into his hands, biting her lip as she did so. "Please, promise me that no matter what you will protect him."

"I swear it, on my honor as a knight." His worry only increased, Robin's vagueness adding to his concerns about her already fragile state.

The promise seemed to calm her though and she rested her forehead against his chest just under his collarbone, heaving a deep shuddering breath and relaxed the death grip she had on his shoulders. "Thank you." She whispered without raising her head, her trembling coming to an end at last.

Once she had settled enough, Frederick decided it might be safe to try and find what all this was about. Gently he lifted her by the shoulder, forcing her to meet his eyes. "Robin, what is this about?" He searched her gaze, her eyes red and tearstained from the brief but violent cry she had just indulged in. "Do you know something? Is Chrom in danger?"

"Yes." She whispered, her eyes wide as if understanding had just hit her. Suddenly she flinched hard and clutched at her head. "I-I don't know w-why." She stammered through the pain, curling in on herself against the torrent of pain that had hit her, struggling to make the words come out. "Just… something is going to happen… I don't know when, or how, but Chrom-" She was cut off again when the migraine hit her with full force and could only collapse into Frederick's embrace as he pulled her against his chest.

They sat like that for a long while, Frederick carefully maneuvering the incapacitated Robin into his lap so that she could feel more secure until the bout passed. He felt it when the pain finally left, her whole body relaxing more fully against him. Slowly, she reached up and touched the back of his hand. "Thank you." She whispered, her voice strained and tinged with the barest whisper of pain. "I don't know what happened, but it helped that you were there. Thank you."

Frederick gave her a small squeeze of reassurance, offering a smile that he didn't quite feel. "Will you be alright?" He wanted to ask about her warning, the promise she had asked him to make and what it all meant, but he was afraid that such pointed questions would lead back to pain. Spending as much time as they did these past few weeks, he had come to realize that these headaches were more frequent than he had first assumed, and they were getting worse the longer than the war dragged on. Never before had he seen her so overcome that she couldn't even make full sentences, however. Something was going on, and he had a terrible notion that it had something to do with her missing memory.

"I'll be fine with some sleep." She said after a moment, taking a deep breath to collect herself, pulling her resolve back together by pure will force if need be. Suddenly she blinked, looking up at Frederick as if it was the first time that she had realized he was there. "When did you get in here? Is it morning?" She looked him up and down, quickly, her eyes widening slightly in surprise. "Why aren't you wearing armor?"

If Robin could be asking so many questions, then Frederick assured himself that she had recovered for the time being. "It is near midnight, milady. I saw your candle still lit." He replied softly, looking her over to assure himself that she did indeed look better before finally allowing his hold to slacken. She did not move off his lap however, still marveling at his lack of armor. Frederick cleared his throat. "Today is, unfortunately, one of my days off."

Understanding lit her face and a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "Lissa huh?" She chuckled, running her hands through her hair. "Well, I have to give her props for conforming you. You deserve a day off every now and again, even if it does drive you batty." Her smile was only half-hearted and Robin made to remove herself from his lap.

Something about the look on her face had Frederick reaching out, touching her chin gently with the tips of his fingers so that Robin looked at him. "She means well, but at the end of the day, she is still my charge."

The tactician's answering smile was a little more genuine this time. Carefully, she removed his hand, holding it in her own. "Thank you for always looking out for me Frederick. On and off the battlefield. I truly appreciate it."

They shared a look for handful of seconds that seemed like eternity, then Frederick dipped his head and Robin met him halfway, their lips meeting in a kiss. She slipped her arms around his neck and his around her waist, drawing close until there was no space to be had between them. After a moment they parted, simply soaking each other in and Frederick gave her a small squeeze. "You will have my arm on the battlefield." He whispered, their foreheads touching now. "And my heart any time you wish it."

Her answer was to kiss again, more fiercely this time and smiled against his lips. "I will give you the same." She breathed in response, the warmth of his words pushing away the lingering pain and doubts.

- SS -

He found her standing on the crest of a hill, staring without really seeing the brilliant sunset that was only just now beginning to flirt with the edge of the horizon. Se was twisting her wedding ring, a habit she had developed ever since she had agreed to be his wife and allowed him to put it on. When she finally noticed him coming Frederick was already at her side, placing his hand at the small of her back. "What troubles you?"

She shot him a small smile and turned her attention back on the horizon, leaning into the comfort of his strong side. "Do you regret marrying me now?" Her question was quiet, distant, as if she already expected him to confirm her fears and had emotionally dealt with it.

Frederick was taken aback by the question. "What do you mean?"

"Well, we know who my father is now." She mumbled, twisting her ring absently but did not look up at Frederick again. "Knowing who I am… do you regret it at all?"

He frowned, walking in front of her and placed both his hands on his shoulders so that she would look at him properly. "Robin, all finding out who your father has done has proven to me that you are a princess." Her shocked look was met with his answering smile, and he knelt in front of her, taking both her hands in his own. "I have a life time's worth of knowledge of what the duties are of protecting royalty. Even knowing what I do now, if I could marry you all over again, I would."

Her eyes suddenly became teary and she sniffed, squeezing Frederick's hands. "Just make me one promise?"

"Anything, my love."

"Don't swear yourself to me." She said, her tone gone serious. "Not like you are to Chrom and Lissa. I gladly share the responsibility of protecting the Exalted bloodline with you, but I do not want a knight. I want a husband."

Frederick stood and gathered her into his arms and shared a long lingering kiss with her. "I swore my heart to you." He replied at long last, meeting her gaze. "Your origins do not define you. You are, and always will be, my wife above anything else."

Robin's smile was watery when she clung to him, a single sob escaping her. "Thank you, Frederick." She whispered against the solid plate covering the broad expanse of his chest. "I love you."

"And I you." Came the quiet reply as he tipped her chin up and kissed her once more to seal the promise.


	2. Time's Keeper pt1

Okay, the Time's Keeper Arc is going to be full of spoilers if you haven't completed the game, or at least gotten to chapter like... 13 or 20 or something like that. I tried to keep it as vague as possible, but in some case's it simply can't be done. So, **spoiler alert**, you have been warned. The concept of this arc is the timeline that Morgan came from, which according to his little final blurb may be entirely different from the other children that came through the time warp. This is not just about Morgan, however. The Time's Keeper arc is also about how it came to be that he needed to be sent back in time in the first place. So, enjoy this three part short.

****EDIT** **This arc DOES NOT relate to the first chapter. _At all_. I've also changed the character parameters of the story to avoid further confusion when searching for this story using the Fanfiction search engine. There are now no characters in the character bar, because I don't know who all will appear in the course of these snippets, and this is not, by any means, a solely MUxFrederick fic. I sincerely apologize for any previous lack of clarity. New arcs or one shots will have similar author notes, so keep a head's up if the chapter names are different.

****This particular arc is MUxChrom****

* * *

The heels of her boots clacked loudly on the stone floor as she walked, her coat flapping out behind her as she walked at a brisk pace. Behind her she could sense Aversa, the slimy woman trailing dutifully along, but she paid her father's assistant less notice than the stones she walked over. She was utterly unimportant in the grand scheme of things, and she had no intention of elevating the woman's status by paying her a mind. Gangrel thought he had won a major victory here today. Little did he know that it was only a means to an end. A means to _her_ end.

"My lady, there is no need-"

The sound of a slap rang sharply in the hall and Aversa clutched her face, staggering backward and casting her eyes down.

"Are you questioning me?" She hissed, eyeing the worm of a woman as she squirmed before her, thinking it more than appropriate that she react this way. "Tell me Aversa, what is it that you fear will befall me? You _did_ tie him up, did you not? Or did you disobey my _direct orders-"_

"No!" She cowered, retreating another step and dropped her hand from her face. "No, Lady Robin, I did just as you asked. I made sure that he was bound."

She smiled, though the look did nothing but make Aversa more uncomfortable. "Good. Then there is no need to delay me any longer." Without a second word or a glance backward she turned toward the door that the two women had been standing outside and opened it.

Inside the room was well lit with several candles burning to provide luminance to the space. It was a guest room, equipped with a bed, desk, nightstand and vanity, one of the rooms meant for visiting nobility. Its occupant sat in a chair with his head bowed, blue hair falling to block his face from view. His arms had been securely tied behind the chair, just as ordered. When he heard the door open, the man looked up, lifting his head, his features set in a harsh glare. "Whatever your plan, it will not succeed."

Despite the assuredness of his tone and the deadly glare coming from his blue eyes, Robin was not the least bit scared. Her gaze flicked briefly to the birthmark on his bare arm, the proof of his lineage and smiled. "Don't you see Prince Chrom? I have already succeeded." She smiled, pacing forward into the room with a catty grin on her face, her steps measured and regal. Aversa stood in the doorway, her hands clasped behind her back and head held high despite the red welt on her cheek where she had been slapped.

Chrom's gaze followed her as she walked, the glare never letting up until she walked around behind him and he could only wait for her to appear within his visual range. With an ungloved hand she reached out and touched the mark on his arm, tracing the half circle. "Such a lovely birthmark. I have one too, you know." She held out her right hand, draping her arms over Chrom's shoulders in an overly familiar way so that he could see the mark of Grima on her skin. "They say that those of us born with such marks are destined for great things." Her lips whispered against the shell of his ear, but if the prince was bothered by it he refused to flinch, stubbornly remaining completely still. "Perhaps I shall finally prove that proverb right. It would be fun, wouldn't it? To see the world fall under the shadow of the Fell Dragon while one of Naga's pets sits here in my clutches. And with Falchion, no less. Yes, I'd say that I have succeeded."

The prince grit his teeth and dipped his head, refusing to be baited by the woman at his back. "Emmeryn will not hand over the Fire Emblem so easily."

"You don't think she will?" Robin asked, sounding honestly surprised and moved around to stand in front of him, a coy smile on her face. "I think she will." She whispered, reaching out and tipped up his chin, forcing his blue eyes to meet her brown ones. "I think that once the dust has settled on that last little battle of yours, and the stragglers come back with reports of their precious prince missing in action, your dear Exalted sister will cave at the knees and bow down to have her little brother back."

Chrom jerked his chin from her fingers, meeting her look with a defiant glare. "My sister only wants peace. Why can't you understand that? Whatever you want with the Fire Emblem is against everything she stands for. She won't give it to you."

Robin cooed, settling herself into his lap and trailed her hand over the strong features of his face. "So confident. They certainly do breed their royalty different in Ylisse. Not like here, where the king is a gibbering madman. But he has his uses, and so will you." Her smile was as much a comfort to Chrom as it had been to Aversa. She slipped off his lap and strode toward the door, pausing before reaching Aversa and glanced over her shoulder at the captured prince. "It may be a while before you're discovered to be missing, and even longer before we can convince her Exaltedness to hand over your little family heirloom. Until then, well, we're just going to have a little fun." The candles in the room flickered out and the only thing she left behind was a giggle that was anything but comforting as the closing of the door plunged him into complete darkness.

He couldn't be certain of the passage of time. Meals were an irregular thing, or at least as far as he could tell. For the most part, he was simply left alone. Mostly in the dark with his hands bound, but after a while he had been released and allowed to pace his room. The familiar weight of Falchion being gone was like missing an arm. He caught himself reaching for it often and when he caught the motion he felt all the more the fool for it. Going over the battle in his head, he realized what had went wrong, and given so much free time to himself he had been given plenty of time to agonize over it. They had been led straight into a trap. It had been far too easy to defeat the Plegian forces and he realized now that it was for the sole purpose of making sure that he made it through the front lines so that the trap could snap shut.

Too little too late. Now he was here, at the whims of a mad king. But Gangrel wasn't whom he was worried over. It was the madwoman and her henchmen that boded ill for him. It didn't take much for him to realize that the white-haired woman with the hood was the one running the show, and the king was just a front for her larger plans. After a few sessions of her gloating he had realized that the plan behind his capture was also all her doing, and that the tactics used in the battle were entirely of her devising. If his father had tried to conquer Plegia with her at the helm, he would have no doubt that Ylisse would be a very different place now.

The door opened without preamble and when he looked up it was to see the woman enter with a haughty look on her face, though this time sans creepy woman in black with her breasts hanging out. Though he was relieved that there was only one this time, he did not like that it was the one who delighted in subjecting him to lengthy lectures about how his sister was going to cave in for him and how her designs, _whatever they were_, would be unstoppable. The look on her face now meant that something good had happened, which meant that Chrom wouldn't like hearing about it. Again he reached for the phantom weight of his sword and gritted his teeth when his palm struck only empty air.

"Ah, and how is his royal highness today?" Robin asked, shutting the door behind her with a flourish. "Up to your usual brooding, I see. My dear, you're going to wrinkle if you keep frowning like this."

Chrom refused to play her game and simply stood with his back to the wall, hands clutched into fists at his sides and frowned at her.

She sighed heavily, shaking her head. "Come now, how can you expect us to be good hosts if you remain quiet?"

"What do you want?" He gave in, if only a little, and that egged her on.

"Well, to congratulate you, of course." Her smile turned simply radiant, an odd expression on her face of all people. He hadn't come to expect her to be able to have such a genuine expression.

He stiffened defensively, wishing more than ever for his sword. "For what?"

Her radiant smile did not dim. "Why, for proving me wrong, of course!" She seemed happy. Too happy. Especially given the words she uttered next. "Your sister refused to give us the Fire Emblem. She wants to negotiate for your release instead."

His chest swelled with pride for Emmeryn and relief that this woman wouldn't be getting her hands on the Fire Emblem easily. His relief quickly turned to worry however when Robin continued to smile. She should have been angry. Maybe she was. Frederick often smiled when he was delivering a harsh reprimand. Perhaps this woman was the same. "So what now?"

"Now?" She spread her hands wide, and shrugged. "Well, now we do this the hard way. If the mighty Exalt will not hand over her Fire Emblem… Well, then I suppose that her people are going to have to pay for her foolishness. It's the Fire Emblem… or war. There are no choices left."

"You can't do this!" Chrom's fragile hold on restraint broke with explosive fury, his glare returning in full force. "Haven't we lost enough? Emmeryn just wants peace! So do we all! Why push our countries to war again? We've finally started rebuilding what was lost during the last war!"

Robin's smile dimmed and turned dangerous, like a cat that had cornered its prey. Her hands fell to her side and she tipped her head back. "Would you even comprehend what I would have this world come to? No, surely not. Those born under the covenant of Naga could never understand what it is that I seek." Her jovial tone dropped into one that was far more dangerous in nature. Her steps were measured when she came forward, facing off with Chrom. He towered over her by at least a head, but that did not diminish her presence any. She stood unflinchingly in front of him, not at all daunted by Chrom's greater physical strength. "The war is meaningless. I don't even care. The end result is all that matters. If your sister wants to sacrifice the lives of her countrymen for this, then I will gladly let her have her way." Her smile was hollow and oozing danger.

His hand shot up before he could contemplate the ramifications of the action, his hand easily encompassing half of her thin neck. Her own hands shot up in response to pull him off, but she was no match for him. "I believe you." He whispered, his voice menacing. "I believe that you'd throw everything away for some stupid goal to… to what? Get revenge?" His grip tightened and Robin squirmed in his grip, gaping for air. "But I can stop you, right now, right here."

"You… won't…" Her whispered words were a struggle to get out around the hands on her windpipe, she grinned. "You're the… hero."

Chrom's eyes widened in surprise, his grip growing slack enough for Robin to take a step back and cough, getting her breath back. "See what I mean?" Her voice was hoarse when she spoke, but she cleared her throat and righted herself, unruffled for the experience. "You will be a martyr to your cause, but strangling an unarmed woman? Even if she is your greatest enemy? The notion horrifies you, doesn't it?" Her laugh startled him. "The weakness of good intentions. Ha!" With a laugh she turned her back and headed for the door, opening it swiftly and exiting with just a flourish of her cloak and a click of the lock, leaving Chrom once again in darkness.

What was wrong with her?

Aversa had asked as much, though with considerably more respect and plenty of caution. She had tested the boundaries of Robin's patience, but she had let the gaffe slide because that was exactly the same question she had begun asking herself. Why? Why was it that she stood outside his door again? She was tempting fate to face his wrath again. There was little he could do to her physical body that couldn't be overcome when her true purpose came to pass, but that didn't mean that she particularly enjoyed being strangled.

And yet she returned.

Something just drew her. A compulsion of some sort, like a calling. Perhaps it was the thrill of knowing that she was playing with fire. It was easy enough to say that she was just demoralizing him, preparing the Prince for the day that he'd be returned to his people and deflate like an overstuffed pillow with a rip in the seams. No one expected anything differently from her. After all, she was living in the palace of the mad king, and her father was… Well, not much better.

But this time she wasn't here for idle banter. This time she had a plan that needed to be set into motion immediately, and it would take all of her skills to go through with it. Robin had counted on the Exalt forfeiting the Fire Emblem so that there would be no more war. That plan had fallen to complete ruin because of her noble nature. It was true that she didn't care of the amount of lives that would be lost in a war between their two nations, but wars were lengthy affairs, and enough time had been wasted already. This was going to get done her way, and that involved earning the Prince's trust.

With a deep breath she entered the room to find Chrom sitting in the middle of it, his hands tied once again behind his back in the only chair in the room. His glare sent chills down her spine, the last lingering remnants of a bruise over his left eye fading to a sickly yellow. Obviously, the guards had needed to manhandle him to get him back in his chair and bound safely enough for a visit from the army's prized tactician after the little stunt he'd pulled with what little freedom he had been gifted.

She closed the door behind her back and waited for the space of a few heartbeats before walking forward with even steps, her face a neutral mask. "How did you know that your sister would not trade the Emblem for you?"

Chrom appraised her from his seat briefly before answering. "I'm not worth the destruction you would cause with it. She knows that."

"She claims to want to save lives. Yet she is willing to risk her country at war?" Robin pressed, stopping when she was standing just a few feet in front of him.

The prince gritted his teeth, though met her calm look with a heated glare of his own. "I see that there's very little choice to the matter… Save a single man, and condemn the world to destruction, or sacrifice me and an army to try and save it? The war will break her heart, but Emmeryn is stronger than you give her credit for. She's learned from the war that our father created that the cost of peace is not always the one in which you save the most lives."

"But you don't even know what I plan to do with it." She countered quickly and folded her arms over her chest. "Perhaps we just want it to kill your sister in penance for the blood spilled by your greedy father."

He scoffed at her words, leaning back in his chair. "You bear the mark of Grima. That is enough of an answer for me." His gaze lingered on the mark clearly printed on her right hand before meeting her gaze again. "The Fire Emblem was entrusted to my family to keep it out of the hands of people such as yourself. That is a duty we cannot fail. If it were just the mad king that would be one thing, and perhaps Emmeryn would hand it over. But the Grimleal are a different matter entirely."

"Such noble ideals." She scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Yet thin as paper when the axe comes down. At the core of it, you are no different than your sire. When confronting a fight you would rather seek the sword than a peaceful route. Your sister's front of divine forgiveness is all well and good, but we know her true face now."

A muscle jumped in his jaw, clenching his teeth together so hard she was actually surprised that she couldn't hear them girding. "Rich words, coming from you. I doubt you even know the meaning of peace."

"Oh?" Robin leaned forward slightly, a mocking tone to her voice. "And I suppose you would? War is in your blood, prince."

"I would." He returned with a glare that could have melted a blizzard. "I don't wish to fight. Neither does anyone else. I can believe that we simply want to exist without having to pick up a sword and kill someone for the right to breathe. Our lives are the most precious things we have, and what do you want to make all those men and women lose them for? To cause more pain and destruction? I don't know what compulsion makes you wish for death, but if you want it so badly, then rest assured I will give it to you."

The threat wasn't an idle one. Robin knew without a hint of doubt that if he were allowed out of his bondage, he would have finished what he started earlier and this time there would be no hesitation.

Instead of being frightened, she smiled. "Well, perhaps one day you will get your chance. In the meantime, enjoy your chair." Her leaving left him in darkness again, but instead of feeling satisfied that her plan had been put into motion, unease wormed in her belly. The utter conviction that the prince had for his cause unsettled her. What was it that made him so confident in the nature of humans to want peace instead of war? He was a fool, surely, and yet she wondered.

Her self-appointed task of delaying the negotiations as long as possible was more difficult than she had given herself credit for. Weeks dragged by and Gangrel became more and more unsettled that the Exalt's blood was not yet staining the ground. She had consoled him often and delayed the inevitable snap that would signal the end of her time to try and convince Chrom that she was "redeemable" in his eyes. Her timetable of events was limited, and worse, she had no idea when her borrowed time would run out.

Nightly she visited the prince and allowed him to lecture her on the merits of friendship, loyalty, and above all peace. After allowing him his piece, she would storm off, pretending to be upset by his words. Much to her surprise and concern however, the act was quickly becoming too legitimate. She would have to be careful. Listening to the poisoned words of Naga's exalts would do her no favors. Grima would be revived. She would see to that, and no words of a Ylissian prince would sway her from that steadfast course.

The door opened and Chrom was not at all surprised to see Robin standing there. He was surprised to see that she was armed, however. Quickly she closed the door behind her and walked toward him, a small dagger in hand. His breath caught in his throat, his heart suddenly kicking into high gear. Had she finally come to finish him off? But no, she passed by his seat and he could feel her hands working on the rope at his wrists, her dagger slicing through the bindings easily. That was when he'd seen it; she was carrying Falchion on her back. "What's going on?"

"You have to get out of here." She whispered hurriedly, her voice thin as she cut the last of his bindings. Chrom rubbed his newly freed wrists, turning to stare at her with a bewildered look.

"You're freeing me?" Over the weeks that they had spent together he had seen something change in the woman. It was in the way she carried herself whenever she entered the room, the twitch of her lips when she turned her face away and thought that he couldn't see her expression darken. Chrom knew that most of it was an act. There was something about the woman that simply drew him and he could sense her thoughts almost as if they were his own. But over the past few days, those barriers that she had placed around her heart had started to drop. More than once he had sensed her confusion during their talks and had realized that it wasn't she was incapable of understanding him: She had simply been taught no other way. This new set of events was something of a surprise to him, however. "Why?"

"The king is fed up." She replied simply and unbuckled Falchion from her back, handing the weapon over to the prince without any sign of hesitation. "The negotiations have gone on too long. He plans on using you to instigate the war once and for all. You'll be taken to the border and executed in front of everyone."

He knew that she was speaking the truth, and this wasn't just some conveniently planned event. Some of that nervousness was real. Most of it was an act, just as everything else had been, but under that veneer she was truly afraid of something. "Come with me." The words came abruptly without bidding, and Robin's looked startled to hear him say the words. "We can leave this place together."

"That would be suicide." She hissed, visibly wavering. "The king would kill me… No, it's enough of a risk that I'm freeing you. I can't also flee."

"Robin," He touched her shoulders, leveling a serious look at her. "Why are you freeing me?"

She looked conflicted; her eyes wide and finally turned her face down. "I can't be a party to your murder." She finally whispered, clutching her fists. "I want to believe what you've told me. That there can be peace. But it will never happen if the king gets his way." Her gaze flicked back up to him, and steely resolution was in her eyes. "You have to get out of here."

"Then come with me!" He stressed again, though kept his voice low for fear of anyone passing by would hear him. "If you truly believe that we can have peace, then help me. Gangrel is bent on this course of action. You could see to it that he doesn't succeed." Chrom sensed more than saw the sense of triumph take her for the briefest of seconds. It was in the lift of her shoulders under his hands and the slight twitch of her eyebrow. She had gotten exactly what she wanted.

To anyone else, they would never have known, for her outward appearance suggested that she was still incredibly torn. "I…" Voices outside the room interrupted her answer and the two listened to what was probably a pair of soldiers pass by the door. As soon as they were gone, she lowered her eyes. "I'll see you out of the castle, but I can't promise anything else. What's important is that you make it out of her alive and get back to your sister. I… contacted some of your friends. They'll be waiting to escort you back."

He was surprised to hear that, wondering how she had convinced anyone to march into Plegia at all, even for him given the stress that their two countries were under. "Then let's go. There's no time left to waste."

"Follow me." She turned, disengaging from his hands swiftly and headed for the door, opening it quickly and glancing down both sides of the hall before gesturing that it was okay for him to follow and quickly darted out the door.

They met no resistance at first, though they had to duck behind an outcropping of wall several times in order to avoid a group of patrollers. She assured him that they were nearly out in a whispered undertone when it happened. The witch with the revealing outfit stepped out into the hall, a frown on her face directed squarely at Robin who stopped cold in her tracks, holding out her hand to keep Chrom from advancing forward.

"Aversa, stand aside." Robin called, straightening herself as she did to her full height, her chin tipped back and her tone brooking no argument.

For all of that however, the witch woman seemed entirely unfazed. "For once, my lady, I will enjoy disobeying your orders." Her lips turned up in a sultry smile, producing a tome from behind her back, the purple cover indicating it as dark magic. From the folds of her robes, Robin withdrew a tome as well, the binding on hers yellow.

"Aversa. I will not ask again." Robin's words were icy as she flipped open her tome, the power of magic crackling around her. "Stand down, or I will kill you."

"Sorry milady." The woman smiled, not looking sorry in the least and opened her own tome. She looked delighted actually; the years spent under Robin's care coming back full force. It was clear that she wasn't here to stop them escaping; she was here to get revenge. "But I _really_ need you to turn about, tuck up your skirt, and sit down like the pretty bauble you are."

Robin's answering glare would have jellied stones. "If you are so eager for death, I shall grant it." Chrom heard his own words echoed in her voice, the effect sending chills down his spine. The next second was filled with an explosive clash of magic, the hall lighting up with the blinding flash of lightning and the deep darkness of Aversa's magic that threatened to swallow them all in shadow. The two magics collided explosively, sparks of light and shadow flinging off in every direction. Chrom drew his sword, shielding his eyes, and ran forward with Falchion.

"Chrom! No!" The warning came too late from Robin's lips when he dashed forward. A flicker of fear broke out of Aversa's triumphant grin when she saw the sword coming, turning with her magic at the ready. His sword whistled through the air, striking a long thin line of red along her torso, not enough for a proper wound but just enough to draw blood. Enraged she summoned the darkness from her tome to snuff out his fleeting life. Thunder cracked in the small space of the hall, a bolt of pure light striking the witch dead in the chest. She was blown backward from the force of the magic, her own spell stuttering out of existence as if it had never been in the first place. She collided against the wall with a sickening crack and lay still where she struck.

Sheathing Falchion, Chrom looked at Robin over his shoulder. "We make a good team."

"Don't get used to it." She mumbled and paid the downed woman no more mind, replacing her tome in the voluminous folds of her overcoat. "Come on. Someone will have heard that exchange. My priority is getting you out of here, not trying to single-handedly storm the castle." The snap of her cloak as she moved ahead of him was the only sound in the hall as the two moved along, Robin guiding them down increasingly obscure passages with only startled servants to block their way. They fled quickly enough when they saw her coming however and watched in fear as the two passed, eyes glued to Chrom and the birthmark on his bared arm. There would be whispers of what they'd seen, but by the time the rumors were born to any ears that could do anything about the escape attempt, they would be out of the castle.

Chrom kept up with her hurried pace easily, his longer legs compensating for the fast walk and remained silent the entire way out. Suddenly she opened a door and they were outside, a hot wind whipped their clothing, a drastic change from the cool dry atmosphere inside the castle. Despite the darkness of the night with no moon, the heat radiated from the ground and smothered the air. To Chrom, freedom had never felt so wonderful.

"Come on. Your friends should be close by if they managed to get through the border guards." Robin's voice was small though carried well enough in the wind. Her gaze flicked to the walls, checking for patrols and then wordlessly started walking again. They distanced themselves from the castle quickly, always keeping to the shadows and the low points of the landscape where they would be hard to see. Two people in all the lands around the castle were hard to spot. They were in the woods when suddenly people in armor surrounded them. Directly in front of her rode a man in blue armor with a lance pointed squarely at her face. Cautiously, she raised her hands above her head in a gesture of surrender.

"Frederick! Arms down!" Chrom called out suddenly, putting himself squarely between the two. Despite the seriousness of the man's face and the sudden situation that they found themselves in the prince was grinning like a fool. "Everybody, calm down. She's a friend."

Robin blinked at his back and the others that had surrounded them lowered their weapons and came closer into the circle. She could see half a dozen people coming out of the woods aside from the man on horseback. They were all well armed and looked like they knew their way around a weapon. If they decided that she was not worth the trouble, then she had no hope of getting back to the castle alive.

"Milord, we must be off. We've lingered too long already." The man in blue armor addressed as Frederick said, sparing the hooded woman with his prince a flat look that was no comfort at all. "Plegia is no safe place for the prince."

"Then lets get on with it." Chrom replied in all seriousness, the glad smile he had for seeing his friends dissolved in that moment, becoming once more the leader of men that he was born to be. The others around the group shared saddles with those that were already mounted, a few horses that had been hidden in the woods before now brought to the front. One was lead to Chrom and he swung into the saddle with practiced ease. "Well, what are you waiting for?" He asked when Robin did not move from her spot, standing stock still as the rest moved around her. "Let's get out of here."

"Chrom, I-" He could tell that she was trying to act for his benefit. He could tell that she was trying to play her want to go with him down. But there was real indecision there too. The trick she had schemed and was trying to play on him wore heavily on her conscious, even if she tried to deny having one.

Chrom nudged his horse toward her so that they were within arm's reach and held out his hand for her to take. "If you have doubts, even a little about everything you've told me, then come with us." His hand remained empty for a long time, Robin staring at it with blatant indecision in her gaze. Finally she extended her hand and took his, mounting up on the horse behind him and then the Shepherds were off into the night with their recovered prince.


	3. Time's Keeper pt2

Hey guys! Thanks for the kind reviews! I'm glad that this story has been received so wonderfully! This is part two of the arc, and there will be a part three, and that will be the end of it. Then onto something different. What that something is, I'm not entirely sure. SPOILER WARNING! I've tried to keep it pretty mild, but really, in this chapter, there's no avoiding it. If you haven't gotten to like chapter 22, then you're risking major plot spoilers. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

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Her reception was cold at first, but after a few weeks of making sure that they didn't die at the hands of what was formerly _her_ army had the Shepherds indebted enough that they were actually being friendly. Only Frederick, the pebble-picking bodyguard continued the pretense of distrust around her. Honestly, he was the smartest man of this crew, and so she dared not speak very much with him if it could at all be avoided lest she slip up.

And she was slipping.

Chrom kept a close eye on her. She knew he knew that her whole act was a pretense, and that the escape from the castle was pre-planned in some way, though the Plegian soldiers that had attacked them for fleeing had certainly not been part of her plan, and nor were they false when they tried to kill everyone. It had been a harrowing fight, but it had given her plenty of opportunity to judge the arms of those that had come to be under her indirect command. For whatever reason, the prince seemed to never tell anyone else he knew that she was a fraud. Perhaps he was using her for her tactics. She knew everything about the Plegian forces that they found themselves up against, and furthermore knew exactly how to counter them. But she had a feeling that he wasn't simply using her, like a smart man would do. She had a feeling that he was truly trying to conform her, change her into something that she wasn't and make her believe that all people wanted to be just left alone in peace.

It was working.

She wanted to believe him. Wanted to believe it more than anything. The longer that the war dragged on, the more she saw the death that she had preached, the less she wanted a part of it. Robin rubbed the mark of Grima on her hand, wondering what would happen if she were to deny the Fell Dragon of a vessel. After all she had done, after how she had blackened her soul and prepared to live up to her birthright, would she still be able to deny the Dragon if it came for her? She had her doubts, but apparently Chrom did not. For whatever reason, he believed that she could change, and he worked at it every day that they were together. The worst part was that she couldn't stay away, not even to protect herself from his weaseling. The compulsion to go to him that had beset her in the castle hadn't lessened. It had only gotten worse the longer they were together. Her job as tactician made it no easier to avoid him. They were often cooped up at length discussing strategy either alone or with a council.

One of those meetings had just happened this very night. They had advanced far into Plegia, threatening King Gangrel directly. So far into enemy territory their risk was greater. Though they had scouts everywhere to make sure that no armies took them by surprise, it did not mean that a strong enough force rallied on them from behind could not wipe them out. Her concerns were laid out on a map in front of her, a candle burning low and threatening to drip wax on the paper scribbled with a rough border that defined Ylisse and Plegia. Pieces representing their armies were scattered over the paper, going through several movements that she could use in battle. Or at least that was her intention. Eventually she was simply pushing pieces around absently, pouring over her own personal troubles, most of which were centered on the prince and his noble nature.

"Robin?" The soft voice woke her out of her plotting or lack thereof and she looked up to see Chrom ducking inside the folds of her tent.

She straightened, pushing back her hair where it had fallen into her face and braced herself. Whatever Chrom wanted, it was far too late in the evening for her to be properly enthused. "Hello. Anything wrong?"

"Just that you've left your candle lit most of the night." He replied with a smile, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword reflexively in an easy stance. "It's dawn, you know. We'll be marching soon."

Her heavy sigh seemed amusing the prince and she buried her face in her hands, for the first time noticing how tired her eyes were from staring at the map for so long. "It's going to be a long day." She mumbled to herself and leaned back in her chair, several bones popping along the way. "I'll start packing."

"You have got to rest some time you know." Chrom replied in his easy manner. "Between you and Fredrick I've got my hands full trying to make sure that my soldiers keep it together."

"You're a good man." Her tone was curiously without inflection when she spoke, stacking the pieces representing units and letting them slide into a bag for safekeeping. "Watching over us like a mother hen. You're entirely too kind."

"Just kind enough, I think." He watched her for a few moments, keeping his peace as she stacked up her papers and books. "And why do you think that is?"

Robin glanced up at him, pausing in the middle of checking a dog-eared page that she'd made the night before but hadn't recalled marking. "I suppose it is because we're your friends, is it not?" She replied mildly, knowing that was most likely the answer expected of her. "And friends look out for each other."

"Do you believe that yet?"

Once again her hands stilled, her heart thrumming painfully in her chest. Silence stretched between them for a long time until Robin finally broke the silence. "Why do you care so much about me?"

She only heard Chrom shift, she didn't turn to see him move, fearing the look that she would get from the prince. "You're one of the Shepherds now."

"But you know what I am!" Robin whirled suddenly, her eyes wild with desperate anger and frustration. She tore off the glove on her right hand and stomped over to stand inches from Chrom, her hand held in front of his face so that he could clearly see the marking that damned her as much as his defined him. "You know what this is, and you know why I'm here. So why? _Why_ do you keep pretending that we're friends?"

For all her bluster, the prince seemed entirely unaffected and reached up, taking her hand and holding it down between them instead. "Because you want to change." His reply struck her like a physical blow and she tried to retreat only for Chrom to tug her back into place with her captured hand. "If you didn't, if I hadn't seen that you didn't have the capacity to change, I would have let Frederick kill you that night." She knew exactly what he was talking about, and that it was true. Even with all her skill and power, she would never have been able to fight them all off. A tremble swept through her and Chrom's steadying grip on her shoulder kept her upright. "I was right. You can change, and you have."

Frustrated tears pricked at her eyes and she tried to tug away from him again but her efforts were futile. "You can't know that." The reasonable part of her was telling her to shove a sock in it, to stop now while she was ahead. While he believed that he had reformed her. But that other part of her, the part that had woken up in the service of the Shepherds, was less keen to cooperate. "You can't know what I will do. What I am capable of doing. You can't know-"

"Didn't you just say that I did?" He shook her, releasing her hand to hold her shoulder instead. "Robin, you've been hiding and lying the entire time we've been together. You didn't get me out of that castle to play at war on my side of the fight."

A stone dropped in her stomach. Not only was he smart enough to figure her out eventually, but he'd known the entire time. The logic this man seemed to possess stunned her into ironic laughter. She folded her fingers into the crease of his shirt. "You're a fool!" Her laughter seemed to surprise him, which was good. She was tired of being the only one outwitted here. "A big fat, honest fool! What did you think was going to happen?" Abruptly Robin pressed her hands against his chest until he stepped backward and turned back to her desk, throwing her hands in the air. "That you would… what? Traipse around the countryside with me for a little while singing stories of truth, beauty and love and convert me-_me-_into one of your posy picking people protectors?" She picked up a dagger from one of her drawers and spun with the weapon in her hand. "What if I wanted to end you? Right here, right now?"

"If you wanted to end me," Chrom replied patiently, his easy stance not at all shifting despite the weapon being waved at him. "Then you would have done it a long time ago. You're not here to kill me." He walked forward until the tip of her dagger pressed into the center of his chest, a serene look on his face despite the eminent danger that the weapon represented. "It's always been the Emblem for you. But that's not why you're here anymore. You've been to the palace. You've seen where we keep it, but you stay here instead." Carefully, slowly, he reached up and took the point of the knife between his two fingers, pushing it aside with no resistance. "Robin, why are you still here? Really here?"

Her breath hitched painfully in her throat, the grip on her dagger unsteady enough that it only didn't fall to the floor because Chrom held the weapon in her stead. "I- don't know anymore." She whispered, wrapping her arms around herself as in to keep everything in, away from Chrom and his preaching of peace. "You're right though, it was all about the Emblem… Chrom, what have you done?" Her voice was pleading, thin and on the verge of breaking with tears. "What have you _done?"_

Chrom reached out and touched her cheek, bringing her face up. "I just showed you what life was like outside your walls. The ones here," He tapped a single finger to the center of her forehead, "and here." He tapped the space just below her collarbone and met her eyes. "You did the rest. I just watched."

She turned her face aside and tightened her grip on her arms. A weak chuckle escaped her and was made to turn aside but was stopped again by Chrom. "It can't be so easy as that. Say a few pretty words and suddenly souls black as a moonless night flicker with light. I can't understand… why you believe in me so much that you would risk your life… _everyone's_ life on the hope that I will… just get better."

"Seems like I hoped right." Again he made her look up, and this time she made no move to get away. "You and you alone choose where you go from here. My sister believes that everyone wants peace, and I believe her. Even…" He picked up her hand, his thumb tracing the lines of her mark. He didn't need to finish his sentence. She could fill it in for him.

_Even you, the chosen vessel of Grima, can want peace._

The first tear went completely unnoticed by her, and she flinched when Chrom rubbed it away from her cheek. Robin touched the wet track with the tips of her fingers and blinked. "I haven't cried in years." She whispered, mystified by the rare event. "Not since my mother was killed."

The look he shot her was one of understanding, not pity like she had expected. "Tell me about her." It wasn't a command so much as a request. She recognized the gentle tone, the one he used when his sister was upset over this or that.

"She was like you, I think." Robin replied after taking a steadying breath, steeling herself against the trembling that threatened to take her. "She was always making me think that there was something more to be had than what my father taught me of the world. About me, about my role in it. She tried to take me away once. To spirit me beyond the reach of my father. She did not succeed." Her eyes turned steely, the trembling gone entirely now. "We were barely gone an hour when he set upon us. My mother told me to run, but I was too scared at the time and they were on horses. How far could I possibly have gotten? But it didn't matter anyway. She pleaded that I be set free, but not for her own life. As punishment for taking me, he took her head. I was never allowed to cry in his presence, and I was always in his presence from that day forward. He had to teach me. To mold me into this." She gestured at her self in her entirety, standing defiantly before Chrom's unaffected gaze, expecting judgment. "And now here I am, standing before Naga's Chosen and divulging all of my secrets. Fate has a funny idea of how it twists us about her fingers."

"Fate has nothing to do with it." Chrom replied softly. "It's the ties between us that make us what we are. Ones we forge ourselves. Not some wishy washy magical hand in the sky directing us." Her brief chuckle made him smile and he wiped another tear from her cheeks. "When you decide why you're here, let me know."

And then he was gone, the dawn light spilling through the flap of her tent where he'd left and leaving her feeling more alone and lost than ever.

* * *

"How does it feel to be a kingslayer?"

The question, posed idly, had Chrom returning a glare. "You know I didn't want any of this."

"I know." Robin replied, leaning back in her chair and swirling the red wine in her glass absently. Chrom did the same opposite the table from her, though did so with a rather permanent glare that he'd adopted for the better part of the day. Everyone else was celebrating the end of the war. The prince and his tactician were drinking away the memories of past battles fought. "I also know that it couldn't be avoided. I know that you did the best you could with a bad situation. I know that you're going to grieve for the next week for our fallen comrades."

"And you?" He looked up at her through his bangs, taking a small sip of his wine. "Are you going to grieve?"

"I will." She replied and took a drink. "For those we lost, and for the part I played in it."

"Augh, feeling guilty then, hm? Funny thing, guilt. Not entirely rational, is it?" He took a larger swallow and listened to the sounds of celebration outside the tent.

A smile touched her lips when she lifted her goblet. "Not quite guilty, no. Guilt is for those that let themselves down and never rectify the situation. I believe, given my efforts to overthrow my former employer, I have begun the path to restoration." She took another drink. "Feeling sorry can never resurrect the dead. But I can make sure that I don't add to the pile. We can't undo what we've done. We can only make amends. And-" Finding her cup empty, Robin reached for the pitcher sitting in the table between them and poured it, taking another drink as soon as her glass was full again. "-thanks to you, righteousness and honor made flesh, I now know how to do that." Raising her glass, Robin waited a second, collecting herself before making the toast. "To the prince of the Exalts, shepherd of the lost. May your sister reign forever." She tipped her cup back and downed half the contents.

"We've been through a lot, haven't we?" He asked after a moment. "Between the kidnapping and the war… Well, and dealing with everything else in between." A smile touched his lips, one mirroring her own. "Remember that time with the posters?"

She snorted into her cup. "I kept one, you know. For black mail."

Chrom sputtered his wine, nearly inhaling it and went three shades redder. "You _kept_ one of those blasted things?"

She giggled in response and took another drink. "Well, of course. After that sound tongue-thrashing that you gave Frederick, I thought it would be good to have something to hold over his head." She eyed his red face and grinned. "It's long burned by now. Your knight and I came to a little understanding. I agreed to burn it if he would stop trying to organize my things. He's very nosy, your knight. Likes to keep things tidy."

"Sounds like him." Chrom muttered darkly and took a generous gulp of his wine. "I'm never going to hear the end of that little episode."

"I don't think you will." Robin replied with more mirth than what was strictly necessary. "You certainly have quite the collection of interesting followers. I still can't believe that The Vaike left his axe behind. Honestly, you'd think that a man so attached to his weapon would never lose it, and yet…"

He chuckled and refilled his cup. "Well, you're not exactly one to talk. Insulting the East-Khan."

She blushed at that but kept her wine in her mouth where it belonged. "Well, she's certainly proved me wrong, hasn't she? Not the least bit hairy chested. Beautiful too, if a little bit crazy."

"Speaking of beautiful crazy people, how's your stalker?" Chrom was delighted that he finally got the one up on Robin.

Clearing her throat, she tried to speak and had to try again. "Please, don't remind me about her. Tharja means well, I'm sure, but her _affection_ is a little bit on the extreme side."

He grinned and sipped again. "Didn't she take a lock of your hair?"

"Yes." Came the dark reply and Robin shrank down in her chair. Suddenly she perked up, tilting her head. "You think she's beautiful?"

"Well, in a manner of speaking." Chrom replied, suddenly gone shy and sat back in his chair. "I mean, with all this…" he gestured vaguely at his chest. "…hanging out, I suppose some would consider that pretty."

"_My lord,"_ Robin leaned forward with a conspiring grin on her face. "Do you mean to tell me that you've been _ogling_ women? Ooh, this is golden gossip my dear prince."

"Oh hogwash!" His face turned beet red but kept his expression neutral. "She's just so…" He made the gesture with his hands again before giving up. "Besides, don't pretend that you don't _ogle_."

"Oh yes, of course I do. I can't get enough of The Vaike's rippling pectorals." She snorted loudly and broke down into giggles and Chrom joined her. They shared a long moment of laughter and lapsed into companionable silence when there was no more laughter to be had.

"Robin, now that it's all over, what will you do?" Chrom asked after the silence had long elapsed.

Her chair creaked when she leaned back, her cup clacking down on the table. "Well, I don't know. Without a war, you hardly need a Tactician, do you?" Absently she traced the rim of her cup and stared into the distance. "Can't go back to Plegia. They'd string me up as soon as look at me."

"I would give you a place to stay, if you would accept it." Chrom said quietly thought with a measurable amount of seriousness and put his cup down as well. "You could stay in Ylisse with the other Shepherds. With me."

Robin's gaze fixed on him suddenly, her distant stare transforming instantly into a hard look. "You owe me no debts Chrom. I owe you, not the other way around."

"This isn't about repaying debts." He replied with a smile, but it was distant. He looked down suddenly, his face flushing. A moment elapsed in which she waited for him to say something more and suddenly he got to his feet, pacing around the table and came to kneel at her side, absently fishing around in his pocket for something. "I know we've talked a lot about this peace that we're supposed to forge now that the war is over. I want you to see it happen. Right there with me. I-" His face turned three shades darker and Robin found herself blushing out of reflex, her heart suddenly set to fluttering. Taking a deep breath, Chrom finally found whatever it was that he had been looking for and in the space between them held a ring. "We were enemies once, but you fought with us and for us. Spilled blood for the Shepherds, for Ylisse, and for me. I figure that makes us pretty close and I… you're more than a friend Robin. Far more. I-" He had to stop again and breathe, the confession severely hampering his ability to get out more than a few sentences. "I love you, Robin. From the first moment you sauntered into my dungeon. And if you… feel the same way at all, then I want to ask for your hand."

Her face had gone redder than Chrom's, her hands held over her mouth as if doing so could contain the sudden well of emotion. Without warning Robin flung herself at him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and knocking him flat on his back. "You silly honest fool!" She mumbled into his shoulder, squeezing her eyes tightly shut against the tears that threatened to fall. "Gods save you, man. I certainly couldn't." Lifting herself away from him, Robin smiled and wiped at the dampness in her eyes. "If you're crazy enough to ask me to be your wife, then who am I to say no?"

"That was the most unromantic proposal acceptance I think I've ever heard." He grinned and Robin chastised the comment with a quick kiss.

"Sorry, I'll try not to be surprised next time." Sitting back she held out her hand, trembling with joy as he slipped the ring on her finger and brushed a whisper of a kiss over her knuckles.

"Forever Robin, that's what this means." He said, a smile lighting up his face that simply melted her heart.

She touched his jaw with both hands, studying the planes of his face and leaned in for another kiss. "Forever."

* * *

Ylisse was beautiful under the full moon. Even after having just survived a war, the country held some regal nobility that was untouched by ill will and bad feelings. Robin stood out on the balcony of her new bed chambers she shared with the prince, draped in a thin sheet and simply looking out over the expanse of the courtyard below and beyond at the roofs of the city. Absently she twisted the wedding band on her finger and wondered how it was that things had turned out so differently than she could ever have imagined. Everything she'd ever been told about how her life would play out had come to naught. Even her own scheming towards those dark ends had been defeated by a few simple acts of kindness and understanding.

A smile twitched at her lips when she glanced back into the darkness of their room, knowing that her husband was fast asleep. Technically, it was still their wedding night, but so close to dawn it was hard for either of them to stay awake. Still, she couldn't rest, not yet. Not when her mind was spinning with a thousand thoughts and had no intention of stopping the chaos in her mind in favor of a few hours of sleep.

The wind shifted suddenly, bringing with it a crackle of dry heat and Robin knew that she was not alone. The magic runes were disappearing from the air when she turned, a startled sound escaping her throat when she suddenly came face to face with the last person in the world she wanted to see.

Grey of skin and hair dark as a raven's wing, the man grinned at her from atop a long thin neck with his thin lips. Her breath caught to see him in the living flesh again, nearly suffocating on the surprise. "Father."

"Daughter." He returned the greeting with little more than a nod and a smile. Taking a step forward he looked curiously about the scenery as if noticing that he was somewhere different for the first time. "This _is_ impressive. Very nice. I've taught you well. Married to the prince with the Fire Emblem within a stone's throw. Very good my child. I was getting a little worried near the end of that war you waged against our puppet, but I see there was no reason to fear."

Robin straightened, her face a neutral mask. "Of course. And what of you, father? How comes your progress with collecting the stones?"

"As well as your acquisition of the Fire Emblem, I would assume." He pinned Robin with a sudden glare, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "Which is to say, not very well at all. Have you forgotten what your purpose is?"

"No." Came the quick reply, a bit of bitter noise that Robin let linger no longer than necessary. "I can never forget what you told me of my _purpose_ and _duty_. But I can forsake it, and that's what I choose to do now." She lifted her chin defiantly, daring him to argue. "Give up your mad quest, father. I am done being the mistress of death. I've had enough of it for one lifetime."

His eyes narrowed even further, becoming little more than enraged slits. Suddenly Robin found herself in pain, her body tensing of its own accord. She tried to scream, but her throat wouldn't do as she wanted, closing off to her instead. Desperately she tried to defend herself, to move, to do anything at all, but it was all for naught.

"Had enough?" He asked, lifting his hand and the pressure that Robin felt only increased. "The vessel of Grima does not simply_ have enough_ of death. It is your _purpose_, your entire reason for _existence_." His word were a hiss of rage, his hand tightening to a fist until Robin was sure that she would die right there on the spot in complete silence. "You have forgotten. Was it the boy?" He turned his gaze toward the inside of the room and cast his hand in that direction. She suddenly jerked to move, her limbs lifting without her input.

A knife appeared in her hands, small enough to easily hide but with a blade long enough to pierce a man's heart. With dread she realized that her father was bidding her to walk straight to the bed where Chrom slept, his head resting on his curled arm, his other hand reaching out for the empty spot where she was supposed to be sleeping. With dagger in hand, she watched in silent horror as the blade was positioned over his bare chest.

"I could kill this whelp through you right now." Her father whispered, barely a foot behind her. "But that would be worse than useless. Remember this girl. There is nothing you can do, nowhere you can go, that I cannot control you. If you even think of warning your beloved husband about this, I will see to it that you slit his throat. And several other things, but the throat last. You will bleed him dry before I allow you to put him out of his misery."

Tears pooled in her eyes and fell down her cheek, dripping off the edge of her chin. One splattered on Chrom's skin, and he twitched in his sleep.

"It will take time to gather the stones." With a wave of his hand he made Robin straighten, her arms snapping to her sides so that the dagger was no longer a threat to Chrom. "Use that time wisely, my daughter. For as soon as the stones are gathered, you _will_ retrieve the Fire Emblem for me, and you _will_ fulfill your purpose."

In a gesture of feigned concern he patted her head gently. "Do enjoy your time with him, dear." With a grin and a laugh he turned back toward the balcony and in a flash of light was gone. The second that he disappeared the power holding onto Robin let her go and she collapsed in a heap at the edge of the bed, trembling and sobbing silently. She raised her right hand, looking at the damnable mark etched into her skin and pressed the back of her hand to her mouth, quelling a sob that would have woken Chrom if she allowed it to be loud enough. The last thing she wanted to do now was try and explain what had just happened.

There was nowhere to hide. Nowhere to run. Nowhere she could go to escape her destiny.


	4. Time's Keeper pt3

He woke uneasily, some worry nagging in the back of his unconscious mind until he had no choice to get up and inspect what the feeling was about. The first thing he noticed was that Robin was not laying next to him. Chrom's eyes flicked to the balcony, expecting to see her standing there like she did every once and a while, but there was no one outside their room. Running his hand through his hair, he stood, the feeling of unease pressing against his chest until it was a gnawing worry that wouldn't let him go. He dressed quickly, taking Falchion with him out of force of habit more than anything else and headed straight for the library. If she would be anywhere in the middle of the night, it would be there with her books.

The library was empty save for one occupant, and that lone individual was not his wife. Startled that he had been caught reading late into the night, Morgan quickly shut his book and winced when it made a loud snap, shooting his father a nervous smile. "I was just heading to bed, I swear."

Chrom frowned at his son then sighed, ruffling the boy's blue hair. "I don't suppose you've seen your mother, have you?"

The boy shook his head in response. He was no more than ten, but his wit was sharp as a knife, something he'd inherited from his mother's side and so quickly picked up on the undertones of urgency in his father's tone. "Is something wrong?"

"No." Came the automatic response, though Chrom reflected silently that he had probably told his son a bold-faced lie. "Get up to bed Morgan. You'll ruin your eyesight if you keep doing this."

The boy grinned sheepishly in response and hugged Chrom around the waist before jogging off to do as his father commanded, grateful that he hadn't gotten in more trouble for prancing about the castle at midnight. "Good night father!" He called over his shoulder before exiting the library altogether, disappearing into the dark halls without a sound.

Quiet as a ghost sometimes. Chrom couldn't but to smile at his child's antics and vaguely hoped that Lucina wasn't also burning the midnight oil and practicing her swordsmanship somewhere on the palace grounds. His children hadn't managed to run him completely ragged yet, but they were always determined to try. He rested his hand on the pommel of Falchion, a comforting weight at his waist and blew out Morgan's candle before heading out of the library to scour the rest of the castle for his wife. The longer that it took to find her, the more worried he became until he caught himself dashing down a hallway. Without realizing where he was going he found himself in the royal apartments once more and stood at an intersection of hallways, unsure where to go next.

The scream tipped him off.

With his heart in his throat Chrom dashed toward the noise, recognizing the scream as a woman's and knowing exactly where it had come from. He slammed his shoulder against the door, breaking the lock and handle, bursting into Emmeryn's room with Falchion drawn. "Emm!"

What he saw inside stilled his heart and drained the blood from his face. His sister sat on the floor with her back against her bed, a dark stain of blood pooling where she sat. Her eyes were cast wide open and forever unblinking, her head tipped back to look at the face of her assailant. Even more horrifying than seeing his sister's corpse was seeing who had murdered her.

Robin turned her head to appraise him, a blank expression on her face and a bloodied dagger in her hand, the mark of Grima clearly showing on the pale skin of her hand even in the darkness of the room. Behind him he heard movement and looked down to see Morgan suddenly appear at his side. Without thinking he took the boy by the shoulder and thrust him back so that he wouldn't be able to see what had become of his aunt, but it was too late. Morgan had seen the blood. "Aunt Emm!" He breathed, his voice wavering, obviously on the verge of tears.

Chrom turned his gaze on the beloved face of his wife, his features settling into an odd mask of neutrality. "Why?"

She didn't respond, simply lifted the blade of the dagger and licked the length of the metal, a smile twisting up the corners of her lips in a cruel expression. "So kind of you, prince, to take me in. Giving me such easy access to the life of the Exalt. I'd thank you from the bottom of my heart, but I'm afraid I don't have one."

He stood dumbstruck for a moment, the strange double tone of her voice as she spoke tipping him off to what had happened. "Validar!" He yelled, enraged and ready for blood. "You _coward!_ Get out here and face me yourself!"

Robin yawned, tapping the tip of her blade to her fingers absently. "No, I don't think so. You see, my little prince; that is not how this game works. My daughter did a _fantastic_ job of getting you lot of fools to trust her. Unfortunately, she became collateral in the process, but no matter. She can still serve her purpose. Grima doesn't care if his vessel is grieving when he takes them." The grin wasn't her own, a reflection of the man possessing her. "Now, if you don't mind, take your spawn and _get out of my way_. I've a Fire Emblem to collect."

"No." Chrom lifted Falchion, putting one hand on Morgan's shoulder to keep him back and out of the way. "Robin told me that this might happen. I won't allow you to get your hands on the Fire Emblem. Even if-"

"Even if what?" She tilted her head, putting her hands on her hips and shot Chrom a bored glance. "You have to kill me? You'd slaughter the body of your wife in front of your son?" She shot the boy a look and Morgan ducked behind his father's legs, trembling and trying hard to bite back on his tears. "Because I assure you Prince, that's what it would have to come down to. The Grimleal have worked too hard for this goal in order be stopped now by some petty prince that has less sense than a fish." She strode forward confidently, pulling a tome of magic from the binding belts at her hip. "I could kill you now, or later. Which would you like?"

Chrom didn't have any words left to speak, only rage. He charged forward with his sword and met the shrieking steel of her dagger. The prince was the better swordsman by far and in a fair match he would have won without hesitation. But the opponent he fought was not a swordsman, nor did he believe in playing fair. The tome snapped open, a handful of garbled words leaving Robin's lips as she thrust the power of magic straight at her husband. With a crack of thunder he went flying sideways and collided heavily with the wall. Straightening herself, she turned to see Morgan standing in the doorway, the boy's eyes wide with horror at what he had just seen. "Look at you." She cooed gently and walked forward.

Morgan backpedaled and tried to escape, but only tripped over his own feet in the process. Robin knelt in front of him, taking his chin roughly, looking into his mismatched eyes. Both were blue, but his right eye was marred by the mark of the Exault, proof of his lineage. She took up his left hand, tugging off the glove and smiled to see the faint lines of Grima's sigil there, the mark of those born of the Fell Dragon. It wasn't vivid like hers was, but then, he was half Naga, after all. "What a beautiful child. You're very lucky, you know. Your sister isn't like this. She's not like me. Not destined for great things. But you could be." The boy trembled under her touch, unable to do anything more than whimper in the face of a mother who had suddenly turned into a monster before his eyes. "Unfortunately for you, I've already got the only vessel I need."

The blade of the dagger that had murdered the Exault flashed in the moonlight when she pulled it out, angling it so that it pressed against her son's neck. "And unfortunately, that mark in your eye could be the only thing that stands between me and the Awakening. Sorry boy. Loose ends and all that." The dagger pressed into his neck, almost hard enough to draw blood when Robin suddenly jerked backwards with a scream of denial, holding her head and sending the weapon clattering to the floor.

"Mother!" Morgan leapt forward to comfort her but she battered away his hands.

"Go!" She yelled, keeping the boy at arm's length, her eyes wide. "Go! Get out of here! Get your sister and _run!_ Wake the guards! Tell them to protect the Embl-" Her words were cut off by a sudden shrill scream and she was reduced to curling up in the middle of the hallway, clutching her head. Morgan watched his mother's agony in horror, unmoving like a fawn when a predator prowled too close.

"GO!" She screamed, tearing away from the misery inflicted on her long enough to shove his shoulders.

The message received loud and clear, the boy scrambled to his feet and ran for it as fast as his short legs could carry him, fleeing from the screaming coming from his mother and the room filled with death that she had left in her wake.

* * *

"Lucina!"

In a whirl of blue hair his sister turned just in time to avoid being decapitated by a particularly vicious Risen with an axe and a vengeance. A blast of fire sent the creature staggering off balance and was enough of a distraction that she could kill it with a sweep of Falchion, the blade shimmering with power as she crushed her foes with Morgan at her back to protect her. The siblings swathed through the hallway filled with the risen dead, trying desperately to protect the last of the palace guards. They all knew that this was the last stand, and they were not escaping the palace alive.

A wall collapsed nearby nearly taking the two royal siblings down in a flurry of falling masonry. Lucina escaped with a rock to the head, the wound bleeding despite the shallow cut and Morgan was nearly crushed under a falling pillar but escaped with a bruised arm. Through the rent ceiling they could see the flashes of lightning overhead, the purple skies and the blackness of the god of doom that had come to end the world.

The castle started collapsing all around them and Morgan acted quickly, grabbing his sister by the hand and dragging her around the Risen that tried to interfere in their escape, dodging deftly aside. Lucina followed easily, using her sword to cut down anything that tried to block their path. A boom that rattled the very air signaled the collapsing of the palace behind them, blowing dust and sprays of fractured stone in the wake of the collapse. Morgan nearly tripped over the arm of a dead man and Lucina caught his arm, hauling him upright again.

Heaving for breath, Morgan clutched his tome, his palm on the handle of his sword. The roof had taken out most of the Risen, but it had also killed what little was left of the royal guard. Overhead the winged dragon of death loomed over them, its great head hovering like a dark moon that had come to devour the sky. "How do we fight that?" He asked, his voice tinged with hopelessness. They had been fighting for six years against the Fell Dragon, he and his sister the last of the Exalt's blood. Their father had died the night that their mother had shown her true colors in the same room with Aunt Emmeryn. Their other aunt had held out longer, but she and her husband had died in the fray as well. Even their cousin had fallen not two weeks ago to a horde of Risen that had swarmed the gates and obliterated the majority of their forces. Morgan had tried to remain optimistic all the while. Lucina was the one that bore the responsibility of the world. Falchion was her weapon. How could he act grim when the world was ending on her watch? So for her, he kept smiling.

"I don't know." The echo of hopelessness was in Lucina's voice when she spoke, true despair settling on them now. The last place in all Ylisse that was safe for humans had fallen and they were the last of the living.

As much as he wished that they could salvage the situation, he knew that there was no way to do that now. He had been salvaging bad situations for six years, and he knew a lost cause when it appeared. They had to try their chances outside the walls, or they would die here with Falchion, the last hope in this dead world. "Come on, we have to move." He muttered and started jogging down the hall, Lucina first following then leading, moving to jog quickly ahead. She was the better swordsman by far, but Morgan knew how to handle himself in a battle and would protect her back just like he had been all along.

Above them a horrendous cracking sound suddenly indicated the shifting of the structure around them. Between the Risen and the Fell Dragon even grand castles could not hold their integrity for long. Dust rained down on the two and the sharp snap of fracturing stone came from just above their heads. Both siblings looked up just in time to see a huge chunk of the ceiling disengage from a long crack that had suddenly appeared in the span of a few seconds. Morgan jumped backward and Lucina took a rolling dive forward. When the stone crashed down he only saw the horrified look on her face as she realized that they had been split up.

Coughing out dust, Morgan quickly inspected himself to make sure that nothing was broken before standing. "Lucina!" He yelled at the pile, his heart in his throat. "LUCINA!"

"Morgan!" Came the weak hacking cough of his sister from the other side of the pile. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine!" He yelled back, dusting himself off for good measure. "Are you hurt?"

"No!" Her voice was stronger after she had spit the dust from her mouth. "We'll have to go around! There's no moving this block!"

Desperately Morgan tried to find a way around, over, or through the huge block. But the chunk of stone spanned the entire hallway. Climbing it would take time he didn't have and would risk serious injury if he fell. "I'll meet you at the front gate!" He called over the pile, taking a few steps back and clutching his book even tighter. "You look out for yourself Lucina!"

"You too!" She called back and he could hear the clatter of steel as she probably picked up Falchion. "If you die, I'll kill you!"

He allowed himself a chuckle for the jibe and quickly turned to navigate his way back toward the front gate through the other halls. It would be easy enough; he had grown up in the castle. Even in the state of wreck that it was, it would be impossible to get lost here. He would just have to go through the gardens, and from there he could get to the front gate easily enough. The directions weren't the hard part. It was the Risen that he was more concerned about.

The un-dead proved to be a tough enemy and he met pockets of resistance as he ran, some of them bearing injuries from the collapse that would have killed a normal man. He shot off his spells quick as he could, decimating their numbers before he had to join them in combat, his sword flashing out to take limbs and hearts as he could, mowing down his opponents and continued the rush to the garden. He didn't want to be here any longer than he absolutely had to be. Lucina would no doubt be waiting for him long before he managed to carve his way out of the castle.

He ran headlong down a stretch of hallway, breathing hard from the exertion and turned where he knew that the garden would be. To his surprise he didn't turn into a barren courtyard devoid of life, but stumbled into what seemed to him a dream. Still breathing hard and with sweat pouring off his forehead, Morgan looked around at the wonder that had befallen him amongst the chaos. It was just as he'd remembered before everything had gone horribly wrong. The garden was green and filled with life that glowed softly in the moonlight. The stones were whole and aligned properly, looking freshly scrubbed and a pale blue white in the moonlight that shown despite what should have been a purple crackling sky overhead. He looked up expecting to see the Fell Dragon swooping down over them but instead saw only stars.

Bewildered he looked around, wondering what trick he had stumbled into when he finally saw the source of the phenomenon. "Mother…" His voice cracked with pain, immediately pulling out his tome and prepared to strike her down before she could do the same.

She looked exactly the same as she had six years ago when she'd killed his father and told him that he was a threat because of the birthmark in his eye. Instead of the murderous glare she had worn that night however, she regarded him with a sad serenity that was so unlike what he expected that he paused in the middle of conjuring up a spell that would strike her dead. "Morgan." With a smile she took a step forward, opening her arms. He was too dumbfounded by the sight to do more than let her simply fold him into a hug, squeezing him gently. "You've grown to be such a strong boy." She whispered in his ear and pulled back, her hands trailing from his shoulders to his wrists. "I'm so sorry it turned out this way."

He blinked, his mouth working to make words but no sounds would leave him, all coherent thoughts flown from his head. "Why are you here?"

Her smile was gentle and sad, her head tilting slightly to the side. "To make amends, as much as I'm able. The Dragon and I are one, but I have won my freedom in this small moment of clarity. If you had Falchion, you would be able to put me to sleep for a thousand years. But your sister has confronted my body. She will die."

"No!" Morgan stepped back abruptly, unable to bear being touched by the woman any longer. "I've got to save her-"

"You can't." Her tone was a simple statement of fact, not the warnings of an evil being overconfident in its abilities. "If you face my body, you will only die. This world is gone. There is only one thing I can do to even being to atone for what I let happen."

"And what is that?" He bit back angrily, his knuckles gone white from clutching his book so hard. "Are you going to give me back everything you've taken? Everyone you killed? My sister, my aunts, my father?"

"That is something I can never do." She replied with an infinite amount of sadness to her voice. "I can not make, or unmake. I can only destroy, or be destroyed. But I can send you back to try and prevent this from happening. You have the blood of the Fell Dragon. I can take you to any time in which I exist."

Morgan gaped at the proposal. "You want to send me back in time?"

She nodded slowly. "You might never return to this time again. But you will have a chance to unmake this future." Robin lifted her hand and gestured to the ruined palace, clearly seen through whatever spell reverted the gardens back to their pristine state. "It is the only thing I can offer. Will you take this chance?"

"How do I know you won't just kill me?" He clutched his book, readying a spell.

Robin lifted her face to the sky, staring up at something he couldn't see and a single tear rolled down her cheek. "Because I have killed everyone that I love in this time, save for you." She turned her eyes back on Morgan and he felt the weight of what she'd just said hit him like a horse at full gallop. His sister was dead.

"I'll do it." He said finally, steeling his resolve. He was the last of the line now, perhaps the last person in all the world. Who was he to challenge the god of death when not even his sister could stand up to the beast? His heart twisted in agony and as much as he wanted to take revenge on the one responsible for it all, he knew that his actions would be futile. After all, how did a mortal kill a god? "I'll stop this."

"That's my brave boy." Her smile was no comfort, her body outlining with a small glow and the garden around them seemed to disappear, drawn into an infinite void. "Whatever you do, do not let this happen again, and know that I love you." The fingers of her hands were cold when she touched his face, the glow transferring from her to him. He could feel the magic tingling across his skin, the light changing from a soft blue to a dark black that blended into the nothingness around them. He tried to gasp for breath as the magic took him, splitting him into threads that fell through the holes of reality but could only stare at her face and hear her words echoed in his ears.

_I love you._

* * *

The distant glow brought him to consciousness first. Then the cold wormed its way into his flesh and bones, and finally the discomfort of his neck became prevalent enough that it woke him. He was laying on something hard, his face pressed flat to the cold surface. With a great mustering of willpower, the boy managed to get his hands under him and lift himself up, sitting back on his heels and looking around warily. His head was fuzzy and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't even begin to fathom why he was here. Wherever _here_ was, at any rate. As far as he could see, square stretches of stone floor made a strange pattern over what looked like perhaps a river or a lake of some sort. The shimmering atop the water was odd though, like glass or thin clear ice stretched between the platforms. Maybe it was solid enough to stand on, but he wouldn't try it if he didn't have to.

Groaning, the boy managed to stand, determining after a moment that the blue glow was coming from either the stones or the water, he couldn't decide which. He didn't know how he'd managed to get here, but he knew that he had to get out of it. Some instinct told him that being caught alone in unfamiliar territory would be the death of him and that it was time to leave. His gut seemed correct, for the second that he'd gathered his book and was on his feet the screech of a wyvern drew his attention sharply and he looked up to see a rider heading straight for him. Fear latched onto his heart as soon as he got a good look at the creature, noting it's unkempt state, the tatter of its wings and the pallid look of the rider, his eyes glowing.

Risen. He knew what that was.

"Come on Morgan, let's get it together." He mumbled, readying his book and prepared to strike the creature and rider dead that instant. With a small gasp and a flash of pain he took a stumbling step forward, eyes wide. Morgan? Was that his name? He couldn't properly remember, but that wasn't the problem right now. Right now, that wyvern rider was set on decapitating him, and he very much liked his head where it was.

The huge draconic creature dove at him with a roar and a spit of fury, jaws snapping together with deadly intent. Morgan rolled aside, ducking under the wing as the wyvern zoomed overhead. The tip of a lance flashed out, slicing through his thin overcoat and blood splattered on the blue glowing stones. He cried out in pain, stumbling forward and nearly hit the floor. Mustering his resolve, Morgan channeled the pain into a spell, the thunder leaving his hand with a deafening crack and struck the rider full in the back. The Risen screeched as it toppled off its mount, striking the ground at an awkward angle and breaking its neck. Smoke rose from the corpse, the foul purple smog encompassing the body and fading into the air. The wyvern, devoid now of a rider sized Morgan up for one last screech them simply fell over dead, apparently unable to continue.

He did not have time to rest and congratulate himself for the kill, however. He was still stranded on this platform, and a brief look around indicated that the wyvern rider was not the only Risen in the immediate area. "What would mother do?" He pondered to himself, memories of the brilliant tactician surfacing from his memories much more smoothly than the recollection of his own name.

'_Well, she probably wouldn't have gotten herself lost, for a start.'_ He mused with a self-mocking grin and turned toward a new opponent that had rushed him. Morgan prepared a spell, the blood dripping down his injured shoulder smearing the open page of his tome. In the second it took to ready that spell, someone else took care of the shambling Risen for him. The corpse fairly exploded where it stood, the crack of thunder booming over the space a split instant after the shock of white lightning struck it.

Morgan turned, shocked that his carefully lined up opponent would be taken right out from under his nose and saw a familiar face running up. Hood drawn, lightning tome in hand and black overcoat swirling out behind her legs, Robin walked the glowing tiles like she owned them, a redheaded Pegasus knight close in tow.

"Are you all right?" She called across the short space between them, sizing up the younger man quickly and noting the still bleeding wound on his shoulder. A flash of suspicion crossed her gaze as she took in Morgan's coat, the two of them wearing almost identical garments. "You… don't look like a treasure hunter. What brings you here?"

_I love you_.

The words echoed in his head, and Morgan was so overcome with relief that he hadn't been left alone that he completely disregarded the fact that his mother was still ready to pull out her tome and let fly another spell. Instead he snapped his book closed and ran forward with arms wide open. "Mother!"


	5. Lucina

This particular chapter is a one shot, again, **NOT RELATED** to anything previous or hence. This chapter is COMPLETELY about Lucina. I just had a thought. What did Lucina exactly do that whole time that she wasn't with Chrom and the gang? She was in the "present" the whole time after all. So, just wanted to touch on that a little bit before moving onto another arc.

****This Chapter is a One Shot****

* * *

She watched from a distance because she could not bear to be a part of this world. Part of her regretted her interference. Who knew what unspeakable damage she had already done to the flow of time? But she consoled herself in the darkness of night where none could see the silent tears she shed. This was for the best. The true future that she was preventing was worth all of the loneliness and doubt.

Or so it had seemed at first.

She had saved her aunt from an untimely death at the hands of the Risen that had accompanied her through the stream of time. She had guaranteed the alliance of Ylisse with Regna Ferox by throwing the deciding match for the throne. She had saved her father from near-death at the hands of assassins. She had saved the Exalt from her own assassination on that same night.

And yet...

Emmeryn had still died. Perhaps she had been too quick to assume that the future was secured against the darkness that she knew so intimately. She thought that she had saved the world, only for destiny to rear up and put all of her plans to shame. The second Great War between Ylisse and Plegia had been nothing but one harrowing task after another, and her father would never know of the great tasks she underwent to help secure his safety. Always trailing behind the main army, staying out of sight, keeping to the edges of the battlefield...

She had been his guardian angel through those years. He barely needed looking after; he was stronger in this time than in hers. With a whole body and an intense strength of character bolstered by the unwavering support of his tactician, it seemed like nothing would fell him. Then the war was over. She saw Ylisse triumph over Plegia, and knew that for the moment her father would be safe.

Two years of peace wore heavily on her as she moved through the shadows. No one knew of the deeds she had done. Her efforts to try and avert the eventual war between the Ylissian and Feroxi alliance against The Conqueror all came to naught. She remained thankless, and that was fine. She had failed now on so many occasions that she no longer believed she was worthy of praise. But still she strove forward. She was alone, but her strength was forged for the purpose of protecting others. She would not bow down and accept the future of this world; she swore that she would avert it.

But with each passing failure that doubt gnawed at her resolve. It chewed holes in her strength. So many times she would lay her head down and wish that the next dawn would never rise to meet her. It was so easy to question her purpose here. It was so easy to doubt her efforts and the effectiveness of them. For all her struggles, what had she gained? Her father could still fight; he sill lead the charge, but even that was not a guarantee.

When news of war between Regna Ferox and Valm broke out, she had truly despaired. She was just one woman working alone, but she had thought, hoped and prayed that somehow, some way, it would be enough. It wasn't. Upon that dawn when her failure had rung out over the hills of Regna Ferox, she had headed straight to Plegia. Her father's army would head there, and she alone knew of the trap that would befall them and decimate the brave Shepherds upon whom the destiny of the world hinged. She could not fail.

Not this time.

The battle was ending when she arrived in the bottlenecked valley. Her father stood at the head of the charge, engaged in combat against the massive Risen chieftain who claimed dominance over their only route of escape. Pushing her body past endurance, she sprinted out of the woods just as the huge monster fell to the combined attack of the Prince and his tactician. Time slowed for her as she ran, unsheathing Falchion, a cry escaping her lips.

Chrom turned; surprised to hear her voice coming seemingly out of nowhere, and then another monster appeared in a flash of light and magical runes. Her father had turned his back to look at her, and she cursed mightily her own foolishness. The conjured assassin leapt forward without hesitation, aiming to kill.

She would not let it end like this. She might have failed at her tasks before now, but she would not let history repeat itself _because_ of her interference. That would be a sin beyond forgiveness.

Blades clashed as Falchion sang through the air, cutting through space with a whistle to meet the oncoming assassin's blade. Startled by the sudden interference, the assassin pulled back to recoup and try again. His retreat was cut short, a bolt of lightning flashing white as the spell struck the assassin's back. Falchion sang forward again, this time Chrom leaping to his own defense and finished what his tactician started, the corpse of the would-be assassin slumping to the ground in death.

A relieved smile pulled at her lips, and she could not help the breath of relief that rushed out of her lungs. For once, she had not failed.

Cerulean eyes bored into her, the familiar sound of Falchion sliding into its sheath hissing from the hip of the Prince as he regarded his savior. "Did you... just call me father?"

She could have hated herself then for that slip up. In her moment of panic, when she saw all of her work being utterly undone, she had let slip the one thing that should never have been said. But there was relief there too. She was tired of being alone. Tired of sitting on the fringes and watching history unfold. She wanted to justify revealing everything to her father now by saying that she could better protect him while standing at his side. It WAS a good point. But, deep in her heart, she knew it was simply because she missed him.

Just this one time, she would allow herself a failure.


End file.
